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Patricia FumertonEarly Modern Center - English DepartmentUniversity of CaliforniaSanta Barbara, CA 93105United States of AmericaEMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

1.206-207S44621Watton Townes endWatton Town's EndMY Maisters all attend you,/ if mirth you loue to heare:THat's the fat foole of the Curtin,/ and the leane foole of the Bull:Pepys 1.206-207STC 24350 [S. Stafford?] for J. W[right? 1612?] (cf. the Turner ballads ent. to T. Pavier 19 no. 1612)Woodblock 1: first 1/2 sheet, over columns 1 & 2: A number of small scenes. In the forground, on the left of the cut, a large rabbit stands, holding a round shield and curved sword, surrounded by plants. On the left, a man in an elaborately decorated robe with a large ruff and hat extends his right finger to touch the right finger of a human-sized animal, dressed in breeches, a jacket, and cap. The animal appears to be wearing a sword, (although this could instead be a tail?). The man holds a glove or gloves in his left hand. In the midground, on the left side of the woodcut, a human-sized rabbit stands near a brick structure, consulting a piece of paper. At his feet lie two large dice, showing a six and a five. In the center of the woodcut stand two human figures. An elaborately dressed woman with a decorated gown and a tall hat holds a dead rabbit in her right hand, while her left hand is obscured by the male figure to her left (the right of the cut). She looks surprised. The male figure reaches towards her with both arms. He wears slops, a doublet, and is dropping playing cards showing a three of spades and an ace of clubs. To the left of the midground is a partial figure, scowling and apparently fur covered, flanked by a three of spades and a five of clubs, as well as a still-rolling die. To the right of the rearground sits an enthroned figure, partially obscured by a break in the cut. Before him stands a striped pole (possibly a plant of some kind?) and several plants. To the left of the rearground/ top row, a scaffold is visible. : 100 x 82Pepys LibraryThe Pepys ballads : facsimile volumeEditorW.G. DayD.S. BrewerCambridge [England]1987
Information in this section of the Source Description
refers to the original ballad manuscript.
1: 2061: 207Turners dish of Lentten stuffe, or a Galymaufery.Turners dish of Lentten stuffe, or a Galymaufery.Turner's Dish of Lenten Stuff, or a Gallimaufry.The second part, or you are welcome my guest to/ your Lentten fare if you come when Lent is gone, you/ shall haue better cheere,The second part, or you are welcome my guest to your Lentten fare if you come when Lent is gone, youshall have better cheere, The Second Part, or You Are Welcome My Guest to Your Lenten Fare if You Come When Lent is Gone, YouShall Have Better Cheer, Turner, W.1/2 sheet folio, originally left part, 266 x 1821/2 sheet folio, originally right part, 266 x 137creased, damaged surface, uneven inkingcreased, damaged surface, uneven inkingcast fleuronscast fleurons1612[Part 1] Imprinted at London for I. W. [Part 2] At London printed for I. W.J.W.Weinstein: STCWeinstein lists I:206-207 under J[ohn] Wright. She notes that STC lists J. W[right?]. Plomer notes a John Wright Sr. and Jr. Jr. active 1634-67, says Plomer. BBTI lists John Wright II (active 1634-58), but says that he was the son of Richard Wright. Licensing information dates this to John Wirght Sr.'s active period. BBTI also records a John Wright active 1609-1628. ESTC lists only I. W[right?]. There doesn't appear to be sufficient evidence to list this ballad under John Wright, especially considering that STC and ESTC follow the publisher's name with a question mark.

Turners dish of Lentten stuffe, or a Galymaufery.To the tune of Watton Townes end.

M Y Maisters all attend you,if mirth you love to heare:And I will tell you what they cry,in London all the yeare.Ile please you if I can,I will not be too long,I pray you all attend a while,and listen to my song.The fish-wife first begins,nye Musckles lylly white:Hearings, Sprats, or Pleace,or Cockles for delight.Nye welflet Oysters:then she doth change her note,She had need to ha[n]e her tongue by greasefor she rattles in the throat.For why they are but Kentish,to tell you out of doubt:Her measure is to little,go beate the bottom out.Halfe a Pecke for two pence,I doubt it is a bodge,Thus all the citty over,the people they do dodge.The wench that cries the Kitchin stuffe,I marvell what she ayles:She sings her note so merry,but she has a dragle taile,An empty Car came running,and hit her on the bum,Downe she threw her greasie tub,and away that she did run.

But she did give a blessing,to some but not to all:To beare a loade to Tyburne,and there to let it fall,The miller with his golden thumbe,and his dusty necke:If that he grind but two bushels,he needs must steale a peck.The Weaver and the Tayler,cozens they be sure:They cannot worke but they must steale,to keepe their hands in ure,For it is a common proverbe,throughout all the towne,The Taylor he must cut three sleeves,for every womans gowne.Marke but the Water man,attending for his fare:Of hot and could, of wet and dry,he alwaies takes a share.He carrieth bony lasses,over to the plaies,And here and there he gets a bit,and that his stomake staies.There was a stinging boy,did write to ride to Rumford:When I go to my close stoole,I will put him in a comfort:But what I leave behind,shall be no private gaine:But all is one when I am gone,let him take it for his paine.

Ould shoes for new Broomes,the broome man he doth sing:For hats or caps or buskins,or any ould Pooch rings.[Buy] a Mat, a bed Mat,[a padl]ock or a Pas,A co[ver] for a close stoole,a bigger or a lesse.Ripe Chery ripe,the Coster-[mon]ger cries,Pipins fine, or Peares,another after hies,With basket on his head,his living to advance,And in his purse a paire of Dice,for to play at Mumchance.Hot Pippin pies,to sell unto my friends:Or puding pies in pans,well stuft with Candles ends,Will you by any Milke,I heare a wench to cry,With a paile of fresh Cheese and, creameanother after hies.Oh the wench went neately,my thought it did me good:To see her cheery cheekes,so dimpled ore with blood,Her wastecoate washed white:as any lilly flower,would I had time to talke with herthe space of halfe an houre.Buy blacke, saith the blacking manthe best that ere was seene:Tis good for poore men Cittizensto make their shooes to shine,Oh tis a rare comodity,it must not be for-got,It wil make them glister gallantlyand quickly make them rot.the world is ful of thred bare poets,that live upon their pen:But they will write too eloquent,they are such witty men.But the Tinker with his budget,the begger with his walled,And Turners turnd a gallant man,at making of a Ballet.

FINIS.Imprinted at London for J.W.

The second part, or you are welcome my guest toyour Lentten fare if you come when Lent is gone, youshall have better cheere, To the same tune,

T Hat's the fat foole of the Curtin,and the leane foole of the Bull:Since Shanke did leave to sing his rimes,he is counted but a gull.The players of the Banke side,the round Globe and the Swan,Will teach you idle trickes of love,but the Bull will play the man.But what do I stand tattling,of such Idle toyes:I had better go to Smith-field,to play among the Boyes,But you cheating and decoying Lads,with your base Art-tillery:I would wish you shun Newgate,and withall the Pillery,And some there be in patcht gownes,I know not what they be:They pinch the simple Cuntry men,with nimming of a fee.For where they get a booty,theyle make him pay so deere,Theyle entertaine more in a day,then he shall in a yeere.Which wakes them trimme up houses,made of brick, and stone:And poore men goe a begging,when house and land is gone.Some there be with both hands!will sweare they will not dally,Till they have turnd all upsie downe,as mnay use to salley.You Pedlers give good measure,when as your wares you sell:though your yard be short your thum wil slip,your trickes I know full wel,And you that set your wares by waight,and live upon the trade:Some beames be false, som waits to lightsuch trikes there have bin plaid.Buy smale Coles, or great Coles,I have them one my backe:The Goose lies in the bottomyou may heere the Ducke cry quacke,Thus grim the blacke Colyer,whose living is so loose,As he doth walke the comans ore,some times he steales a goose.Thou Usurer with thy money bags,that liveth so at ease:By gaping after gould thou doest,thy mighty God displease,And for thy greedy usu[rie]and thy great exto[rtion]:

Exdept thou doest repent thy sinnes,hel fire wilbe thy portion.For first I came to Hounds-dich,then round about I crept:Where cruelty is crowned chiefe,and pitty fast a sleepe,Where Usury gets profit,and brokers beare the bel,Oh fie upon this deadly sinne,it sinkes the house to hel.The man that sweepes the chimneys,with the bunsh of thornes:And one his necke a trusse of poles,tipped al with hornes.With care he is not cumbred,he liveth not in dread:For though he weares them on his pole,some weare them one there head.The Landlord with his racking rents,turne poore men out of doore:There children goe a begging,where they have spent their store,I hope none is offended:at that which is indited,If any be, let him go home,and take a pen and write it.Buy a trap a Mouse trap,a tormentor for the fleas:The hang-man workes but halfe the day,he lives too much at ease.Come let us leave this boyes play,and idle prittle prat,And let us goe to nine holes,to spurne point or to cat.Oh you nimble fingured lads,that lives upon your wits:Take heed of Tyburne Ague,for they be daungerous fits.For many a proper man,for to supply his lacke:Doth leape a leape at Tyburne,which makes his neck to crack.And to him that writ this song,I give this simple lot:Let every one be ready,to give him halfe a pot.And thus I doe conlude,wishing both health and peace,To those that are laid in their bed,and cannot sleepe for fleas.